


Mid-winter Siesta

by WhimsicalEthnographies



Series: Up Came the Sun [10]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Dubious Science, Gen, I could sleep for three months, I just made shit up honestly, IronDad and SpiderSon, May Parker is a sainr, Peter Parker is a Little Shit, Precious Peter Parker, Protective Tony Stark, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, hibernation, it's not his fault but seriously, oh I did a cliched trope, peter is an adorable little baby and everyone knows it, seriously the sun hasn't been out in a month in my part of NY
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-02 05:51:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17258720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhimsicalEthnographies/pseuds/WhimsicalEthnographies
Summary: “‘M not tired,” Peter rubs his eyes when they reach the heavy oak door of his room, obviously very tired.  He shivers.  “‘M jus’ cold.”“Probably because you’re tired,” Tony opens the door and walks Peter through, deliberately ignoring the mess of clothes and books on the floor.“May always says that, too.”“Probably because it’s right,” Tony has no idea if it’s right, but his mother always said it. Pepper says it.  It sounds right.  Maybe it’s a Parent Thing.  “So get those covers I paid too much for off the floor and get in bed.”





	Mid-winter Siesta

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, I did a hibernation trope!
> 
> I mostly just made shit up. Like, really made shit up. And I had to figure out a way to explain WHY this is the first winter Peter did this. So I made a TON of shit up. So much made up shit. But I wanted Peter to hibernate, because right now I want to hibernate. So I looked up some wikipedia shit and some "Spiders of north america" shit and smushed it together and TOTALLY made shit up.
> 
> This whole thing is a mess. Lol. I just wanted to write about sleeping. So, made-up shit.
> 
> If you don't mind a blog that consists of shitposting, misunderstanding the memes all the kids talk about today, Johnlock conspiracies, and occasional MCU screaming follow me on the tumblr dot com [whimsicalethnographies](http://whimsicalethnographies.tumblr.com/)

Tony should be thrilled that the kid is sleeping; they are all still trying to work through the trauma, and frankly, he’d have been more concerned if Peter had just settled into life again. But it’s been a struggle, anxious nights and bad dreams, dark circles under the eyes of a teenager who isn’t able to get more than a few winks at a time wherever he can. It got better when they all packed up and headed back into the city, and Peter headed back to school, but Tony knew the already anxious and over-excitable teenager is still struggling, if only because he’d received far too many texts and phone calls at three in the morning.

But this is the third time Peter is dozing on his workstation in the past week and a half he’s been at the tower. His eyes had been dull with exhaustion when he half-swung, half-fell through the tower window at 9pm, and now he is snoring on the desk, still in his suit, his mask discarded on the floor. Tony is loathe to wake him up, but knows that if he stays like that he’ll wake up stiff, sore, and a cranky mess, and he’s scheduled to sit with Tony early tomorrow morning to go through FRIDAY’s annual diagnostic reboot.

“Hey, Spider-baby,” Tony shakes his shoulder, perhaps a bit harder than necessary, but it wakes Peter up.

“Mmffp--wha? M’ser Stark?” Peter groans and opens one eye, not even bothering to lift his head off the desk. “Wha’ time is it?”

“Not even ten,” Tony bends over and snatches his mask off the floor--he wishes Peter would stop wearing his old, very not-bulletproof suit, even if he’s only in Queens--groaning as his back creaks. “You stumbled in and passed out cold. You feeling okay?”

It’s been exactly a week since the hibachi-Christmas-norovirus-incident, and while all three of them had fully emptied their digestive tracts in time for Christmas day, Tony is still running a little ragged. Pepper, bless her, hadn’t missed a beat ( _“I threw up for a month straight, Tony, after you implanted your denom baby in me, this is nothing,”)_ but the kid seemed to be straightened out by the day after Christmas, and actually inhaled two-and-a-half pizzas on his own. But both May and Cho told them not to expect to be back to 100% for awhile, and this is actually the first night Peter has been out patrolling.

“Huh? Yeah. Just tired, and a little cold,” Peter pushes himself up on his elbow, rubbing sleep from his eyes. Tony reaches out regardless and rests the back of his hand on his forehead, feeling for any heat. He feels normal, if a little chilled. “And hungry.”

“Jeez, after what you ate before you went out? What’d you do out there?”

“Maybe I’m just making up for last week,” Peter sits up and yawns, smacking Tony’s hand away.

“Maybe you should have given it another few days,” Tony tosses the mask on the desk.

“I’m fine, Mr. Stark. Besides, it felt good to be out. I’ve been inside for a week,” Peter cracks his neck and rolls his shoulders. “I just wish the sun was out.”

“It’s December, Pete. The sun hasn’t been out for a month.”

“I know, it’s actually kind of depressing. Like--” he yawns again--”it didn’t even feel like day. And it was _cold._ ”

“Your suit has a heater, genius. All three of them. Why are you even wearing this old one?” Tony steps back over to his workstation, now confident the kid isn’t dying at least. He picks up his piping hot cup of coffee; Peter actually looks at it yearningly.

“Because I like it for Queens,” Peter shrugs, and yawns a third time. “And I know. I forgot.”

“Well, don’t forget next time,” Tony swallows the scalding fluid. “If you’re hungry, there’s still plenty of soup we can heat up.” Pepper had made a giant pot of sausage-lentil soup in a fit of excitement to be able to eat something other than rice again--and possibly a little bit of pregnancy nesting--and they had enough to last at least a week, even while feeding Peter. “Nice and spicy, warm your bones right up.”

“And probably make me more tired,” Peter grunts, but he stands to follow Tony out of the lab anyway. 

“Then go to sleep, preferably in your _bed_ ,” Tony ruffles Peter’s hair as they clomp up the stairs. “Ugh, and take a shower. No wonder you’re freezing, you’re soaking wet.”

“I get sweaty,” Peter grumbles, but he shuffles off down the hall to his bedroom while Tony makes a beeline for the kitchen.

When he returns fifteen minutes later, hair wet and wrapped in ridiculous fleece Finding Nemo pants and a Midtown hoodie, Tony is waiting for him with a pot of piping hot, leftover soup. Peter eats two bowls, standing at the island, staring sleepily off at some invisible point in the sky outside the wall-to-ceiling windows of the sitting room.

“Alright,” Tony pulls the empty bowl out of Peter’s hands and puts it in the sink. “Now go to bed. You’re dead on your feet.”

“But it’s not even eleven yet,” Peter protests automatically, but there’s no heat in it, and he’s still staring out the window, at the heavy night clouds reflecting the lights of city.

“Yeah, and your aunt would kill me if she saw you right now.”

“She’d be fine,” Peter waves a hand absentmindedly, finally pulling his eyes away from whatever he is staring at. 

“She told you to take it easy, which means it’s my responsibility to force you to take it easy because you don’t listen to her,” Tony takes hold of Peter’s shoulders and turns him in the direction of the penthouse hallway. “I probably shouldn’t have even have let you out tonight.”

“I needed to get out, I was getting antsy,” Peter lets Tony guide him down the hallway towards his room, bare feet shuffling heavily against the floor.

“I know, kiddo,” Tony smiles when Peter yawns and leans into him on their short walk, his chest warming the way it always does when confronted with a sleepy Spider-kid who actually _does what he’s told_. “But now you’re back and it’s time for bed.”

“‘M not tired,” Peter rubs his eyes when they reach the heavy oak door of his room, obviously very tired. He shivers. “‘M jus’ cold.”

“Probably because you’re tired,” Tony opens the door and walks Peter through, deliberately ignoring the mess of clothes and books on the floor.

“May always says that, too.”

“Probably because it’s right,” Tony has no idea if it’s right, but his mother always said it. Pepper says it. It sounds right. Maybe it’s a Parent Thing. “So get those covers I paid too much for off the floor and get in bed.”

“Hrmph.”

Tony ruffles Peter’s damp hair so it’s sticking up, then smooths it back down. “Brush your teeth first.”

“I’m not five, Mr. Stark.”

“Tell that to those fleece Nemo pants.”

“They’re warm.”

“I know,” Tony squeezes his shoulder. “ _Go to bed_. ‘Night, bud.”

“‘Night, Mr. Stark.”

*********

Peter was apparently very tired, because he sleeps until nearly noon, stumbling bleary-eyed into the kitchen just as Tony is throwing together a sandwich. Not that there was much day to miss; the cloud cover is so heavy over the city that Tony wonders if the sun is even out there somewhere.

“Oh, thank you for gracing us with your presence,” Tony takes a bite out of a slice of provolone and leans against the oven, which Pepper has turned on for what Tony suspects is the foil-covered pan he saw in the fridge.

“I was tired,” Peter shuffles over to Tony and leans against the oven, sighing at the warmth. His hair is an absolute mess and there’s still a pillow crease pressed into his cheek, but he looks like he had the decency to at least wash his face.

“Clearly,” Tony bumps his shoulder when he crosses his arms and shivers, curling in on himself. “You were supposed to help me run diagnostics on FRIDAY this morning.”

“You mean watch the screen while she runs diagnostics on herself?” Peter huffs and sniffs.

“Someone’s got to, and somebody’s got to keep me company while I do it,” Tony pushes himself off the warmth of the oven and heads back to his sandwich-in-progress. “You still cold? You can ask FRI to turn the heat up, you know.”

“I know, it’s just weird and I forget. May can feel it across the city if I touch the thermostat.”

“Not my thermostat,” Tony cuts his sandwich, triangles of course. “FRI, raise the temp two degrees.”

“Will do, Boss.”

“Thanks, Mr. Stark,” Peter shivers again. “I don’t know why I’m so cold.”

“That time of year,” Tony picks his plate up and brings it over to where Peter is still hunched against the oven. “Here, eat. Then get your skinny ass down in the lab. Code’s not gonna watch itself.”

“Hrrmmm,” Peter grumbles, but he takes the plate from Tony. “Thanks.”

“Anytime, kiddo.”

***********

Over an hour later Tony drags himself up the stairs, looking for the teenager who never materialized in the lab. It doesn’t take him long to find him, and Tony rolls his eyes so hard it actually hurts when he does.

Peter is asleep, conked out cold. That normally wouldn’t have caused Tony to roll his eyes, except he is asleep on the kitchen floor, curled up in a ball on the marble, his back pressed against the warm oven door. 

“Peter, seriously?” Tony crosses his arms and glares for a moment, but Peter doesn’t so much as stir, so he throws up his hands and stomps his way across the kitchen. 

“Kid?” Tony toes Peter’s side gently, then steps around him to get to the fridge. When he opens it he sees Pepper’s pan still in its spot; she must have gotten distracted by something. Thank goodness for nearly unlimited, clean energy. “You’re blocking the path.”

Nothing. Tony sighs; Peter can be a little shit when he’s tired and cranky, and watching FRIDAY’s diagnostics all morning--by himself--has worn his patience thin. He hates when he gets irritated with the kid, and always tries his hardest not to be--especially now, _after_ \--but he feels annoyance prickle at the back of his neck. 

“Pete, come on,” Tony grabs a bottle of sparkling water from the fridge and pushes the lump in front of the oven with the ball of his foot. “You can nap on the couch, Pep is gonna want her oven again eventually.”

Peter doesn’t move, doesn’t mumble or groan or make any of the other sounds Tony would expect to come out of a sleeping kid who was just kicked.

“Peter?” The prickle of annoyance in his neck flashes hot and harsh into panic, and Tony drops to the hard floor, reaching out to shake Peter’s shoulder. “Hey, kid?” He shakes a little harder. “Peter?!?”

Tony ignores the bile rising in his throat and quickly rolls Peter over, jabbing his fingers into the side of his neck. His skin is cool to the touch, despite the heat of the oven, but his pulse is steady and strong in his neck, if perhaps a bit slow. He’s breathing deep and evenly, Tony can feel more than hear his small snores, and he’s rarely seen such a peaceful expression on his face when he’s asleep. He looks about eight, and if Tony’s heart wasn’t about to beat through his chest, he’d be fighting the urge to coo.

“FRIDAY? You up?” Tony shifts on the floor and moves to cradle Peter’s head in his lap, keeping two fingers pressed against his neck. Peter doesn’t wake up, or even move, aside from the steady pulsing under Tony’s fingers.

“I am at 93% capacity, Boss. How can I assist?”

“Can you do a bio-scan? Scan Peter.”

“Of course, Boss. Biometrics are at full capacity. Scanning.”

“Why can’t I wake him up?” Tony brushes some hair off Peter’s forehead then rests his shaking hand against his sternum, which is rising and falling steadily. The teenager doesn’t move.

“Mr. Parker’s biometrics appear to indicate decreased metabolism, lowered core temperature, and developmental suspension.”

“What?”

“Many arthropods undergo a process called diapause when the environment is unfavorable or when they must overwinter--”

“FRIDAY…”

“--and these metabolic changes are often dictated by suitable surroundings and the accumulation of resources. It appears that Mr. Parker’s DNA is sufficiently changed from that of human DNA that the steady decline of the temperatures, the lack of sunlight from the recent storms, and the overabundance of resources available to him in the Tower, combined with standard human photoperiodistic response to shortened days remaining in the human portion of his DNA code, inadvertently triggered the initiation stage of diapause.”

“In English, FRIDAY!”

“Mr. Parker is hibernating, Boss.”

“What?” Tony practically leaps off the floor, momentarily forgetting that Peter’s head is in his lap. He manages to catch the back of his skull before it smacks the marble floor. Peter doesn’t give any indication that he is bothered, or even noticed, how hard he was jostled.

“I said Mr. Parker is hibernating, Boss.”

“Yeah, I heard you, FRI. I just don’t fucking believe it,” Tony shakes Peter’s shoulder again. “Pete? C’mon bud, you in there?”

“If Mr. Parker is hibernating, he will not arise without the appropriate stimuli, Boss.”

“You wanna tell me what those are, FRIDAY?”

“I am unsure, as my diagnostics are not at one-hundred-percent and Mr. Parker is an anomaly to my system. I can recommend moving Mr. Parker to the MedBay and calling Dr. Banner and Dr. Cho. Dr. Banner is at the compound and I estimate he can be here within an hour if he takes a jet. Dr. Cho is in Seoul but could arrive by tomorrow.”

“Gee, thanks for all that help, FRI. Call Bruce and Cho. And tell Pep to get down here.”

“Of course, Boss. I am going to continue uploading. Please call me if you need any other assistance.”

Tony doesn’t bother answering, but he hopes FRIDAY is up enough to see how he waves his hand in dismissal. He shifts Peter’s head to the floor, holding onto his shoulders as he eases him down, still dead to the world and his manhandling. He always forgets how heavy the kid actually is, something he always thought was _very_ unspider-like.

“Alright, kiddo. You always make sure we have to do this the hard way,” Tony taps his housing unit so he can carry Peter down. He makes sure to leave his right hand free of nanotech, so he can keep two fingers jammed against Peter’s pulse on the way. 

*****

“Well, you have to admit Tony, he looks adorable,” Pepper perches on the edge of the small bed, reaching out to run her fingers through his hair. “Snug as a bug.”

“Mmmm...exactly,” Tony rubs his hand across his face and groans. “Which isn’t a good thing. May is gonna kill me.”

“Why is she going to kill you? It’s not your fault,” Pepper gently tucks the thick blanket further under Peter’s chin.

“Because this is the second weird medical thing that has happened to her mutant nephew in the past two weeks I’ve been in charge of him.”

“Norovirus isn’t weird, Tony.”

“It is with an enhanced individual whose DNA has been so altered he shouldn’t be affected by regular human viruses.”

“You know, I kind of just want to curl up with him and sleep,” Pepper rubs her belly as she watches Peter, looking far too calm for Tony’s liking. She looks downright amused.

“Don’t you dare,” Tony pushes himself off the bare counter in the bay and starts to pace. Bruce has been analyzing Peter’s blood for over an hour, and Cho is still on her way from Seoul. He left a not-too-panicked voicemail for May as soon as he managed to get Peter down into the MedBay for her to call him as soon as she could.

_He’s alive, he’s fine, mostly, but call me, May. Apparently this spider-thing goes farther than we thought. So, yeah. Call me. Like as soon as you get this. If I don’t hear from you by four I’ll call again. Bye. It’s Tony, by the way._

“We should get him a softer blanket,” Pepper rubs Peter’s shoulder through the scratchy, blue blanket Peter immediately rolled into as soon as Tony dropped him on the bed. It was--and still is--the only actual movements he made in the time since Tony found him curled up on the kitchen floor.

“He is being bad, he doesn’t get a softer blanket.”

“Tony,” Pepper stands up, finally turning away from the dark blue cocoon with a Peter-face. “You’re panicking.”

“Of course I’m panicking!” Tony yells, then flinches inwardly. He hadn’t meant to yell, and certainly not at Pepper.

“Tony,” Pepper lays a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Bruce said his vitals are fine, his blood oxygen levels are ninety-nine percent, and that according to FRIDAY’s brain scans, he is definitely dreaming about something nice. Possibly that curly-haired girl--”

“--or Ned and Legos. Or that dog he had Karen take a million shots of.”

“--or those,” Pepper hooks her chin over Tony’s shoulder. “And he’s not worried, he seemed pretty confident he can wake the kid up, even if he needs to wait for Cho.”

“And if not?”

“Well, if he’s hibernating, he’ll wake up eventually, right?”

“He can’t sleep for three months, Pep.”

“He’s not going to sleep for three months, Tony, I promise,” Pepper scratches her nails through the hair at the nape of his neck, and Tony feels his hackles lower, just a bit. “But I seem to remember you telling me several times how much more Pete needs to sleep. And now, he is. And Bruce will fix everything, and then you’ll have a funny story to tell at his wedding.”

“I can’t tell it at his wedding,” Tony grumbles, leaning his head down as Pepper’s fingernails move up to his scalp. “Nobody knows he’s a freaky spider-kid.”

“Then you can tell it to the rest of the Avengers.”

“What if Bruce or Cho can’t wake him up, Pep?”

“Tony,” Pepper removes her hand and moves to stand in front of him. “Look at me. No-no, look,” she puts her index finger under his chin and Tony lets her push it up. “This is hardly the worst mess Peter has been in. Bruce helped you fix the world. He’ll fix this.”

Tony sighs and leans his forehead against Pepper’s. “I know, but…” he gestures vaguely with his hands. “But. You’re so calm. How are you so calm right now?”

“Because I have to be,” Pepper says firmly, and Tony suddenly sees it in her eyes. She’s as worried as he is. But the fact is that Pepper has been worrying about a superhero for over a decade, and has long learned that panic gets nobody anywhere. “Now,” she kisses him softly, just a brief peck, “I’m going to go grab an actual blanket, and my slippers, and some work, and I’m going to come back down here and sit with that snug little bug because the poor thing is inadvertently _hibernating_ and I’m not going to let him do it all alone.”

“Well, I wasn’t exactly planning on leaving…”

“I know, honey,” Pepper kisses him again. “Sit down and take a breath.” She smooths the shoulders of his t-shirt. “Do you want me to bring you anything to eat?”

“A handle of A.H. Hirsch?”

“Tony.”

“I’m kidding,” Tony runs his fingers through his hair. “Whatever you can find, and you should eat too. He’s lucky I’m a billionaire, the kid has pretty much cleaned us out. Which I thought was him bouncing back from that stomach bug, but guess not!”

“Alright, _dad,”_ Pepper rolls her eyes. “Sit down, try May again. I’ll be back in a bit.”

“Yes, dear.”

“Good,” Pepper pats his cheek. “Everything will be fine, I promise.” Pepper leaves Tony alone in the MedBay with Peter. The silence is suffocating; usually the bays are filled with the sounds of machines pumping and beeping, with footsteps scurrying down the halls in a quest for supplies and tools. But the only sounds now that Pepper has left is Peter’s deep, slow breathing, and Tony’s heart, which is still pounding wildly in his ears.

“Goddammit, kid,” Tony grabs one of the hard-plastic chairs from the corner of the room and drags it over to the small bed. He sighs and flops into it, leaning over to brush some hair out of Peter’s eyes, which remain closed the entire time. “Where did this come from? You’ve been a spider for four years. Why’d you pick this year, buddy?”

“A very interesting question, Tony.”

Tony jumps back as Bruce quickly walks into the bay room, flipping through a pile of print-outs. He looks at him over the line of his readers and smiles knowingly. “Oh, shut up, Bruce.”

“I’m not saying anything.”

“I heard you thinking it,” Tony sits back up, but keeps his chair close to the bed. “And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t think about anything but this problem until it’s solved.”

“Well,” Bruce leans against the counter and flips his folder shut. “I don’t know if I solved it per se, but--”

“Then what are you doing in here?” The legs of the chair scrape the tile floor as Tony pushes back from Peter’s bed. “Bruce, we need to fig--”

“Take a breath, Tony. There’s a lot of things we can fix even if they’re not completely solved…”

“Boss,” FRIDAY’s voice echoes through the room. “May Parker is calling.”

“Oh fuck,” Tony steps around the bed and over to Bruce. “Put her through.”

“Tony?” May’s voice replaces FRIDAY’s over the speakers. “I got your message, where’s Peter?”

“Erm...he is right here, May.”

“Well, then what’s wrong? Put him on. Peter?”

“Well, he can’t really, right now. Talk, I mean.”

“What? Why?” May’s voice rises a few octaves. “Where is he? Tony, I swear to God if you--”

“No, May,” Bruce breaks in gently. “Peter is fine, well, we think. He, um, well, it appears that when he was bitten, there may have been more fundamental changes to Peter’s metabolism than we were previously aware.”

“What the hell does that mean, Bruce? Why can’t I talk to my nephew?”

“Well, May,” Bruce clears his throat. “He’s asleep--”

“Asleep? Well wake him up. Jesus Christ, you are all helpless.”

“May,” Tony grimaces and crosses his arms. He can picture May’s face. “We can’t right now. The kid is apparently hibernating.”

“WHAT?!?!”

“Yeah, I know, that’s what I said when I found him and FRIDAY scanned him, and I almost shit myself right in the kitchen--”

“Oh, you didn’t get enough of that last weekend? I’m tired of hearing about your digestive tract, Tony Stark. Bruce Banner, what is going on with my nephew?”

Bruce makes a face at Tony and shrugs. “Well, May, some species of spiders in temperate climates are known to undergo a process called diapause during colder months, when they need to overwinter. It’s essentially the same as hibernation in mammals: metabolism slows down, any developmental changes halt, and they go to sleep until conditions change.”

“And Peter is now in this diapause thing?!”

“It seems so. All his vitals are perfectly stable and strong, and his brain waves indicate he’s in the third stage of sleep. He just seems to be staying in it for longer than expected, and he isn’t responding to external stimuli. And he seems to be dreaming, which is unusual for the third stage, but certainly not unheard of. Honestly, May, we should send you a picture. He’s the cutest thing, it’s making me want to curl up and take a nap--”

“BRUCE,” Tony snaps. “Nobody is taking any naps. Also he’s seventeen. You’re all talking about him like he’s a toddler.”

“And nobody is napping until you fix my nephew!” May sighs over the line. “Why is this happening? It’s been four years since that thing bit him, or whatever. He’s never done this before!”

“Well, that answers that question,” Bruce flips open his folder and marks something. “Even if he’s never done this, May, did you notice anything during autumn or winter? Moving slower, sleeping more?”

“Well...he gets colder than usual, and maybe he slept more, and sulked more when I woke him up…” May is thoughtful. “But he never--how did you even find him? Was he in an alley somewhere?”

“No, no,” Tony waves his hand, as if she can see him. “I found him in the kitchen, curled up in front of the oven. He went out patrolling last night, then slept until noon. Then apparently decided to just hole up on the kitchen floor.”

“Ok, so why?! He’s never done it before. I swear Tony, I don’t know how this is your fault, but I’m gonna blame you. He’s at your house.”

“Well, that’s something I’m not absolutely sure of, but I think I have an idea,” Bruce takes off his glasses and sets them on the counter before addressing the ceiling. “Diapause is activated, for lack of a better word, by a certain sequence of events that line up correctly: cold temperatures, a change in resource availability, and a change in sunlight.”

“The sun hasn’t been out in two weeks.”

“Exactly. And he was sick last week--which we still need to look at, by the way--and didn’t eat for a few days. So.”

“So his stupid spider DNA thought there was no more food,” Tony groans and rubs his eyes. “Jesus Christ.”

“Yeah. You said he started eating normally the day after Christmas?”

“Not so much normally as everything in sight.”

“Well, there you go,” Bruce shrugs and sets his pile of papers on the counter next to his glasses. “It’s been cold, and dark, and his body thought it was starving, or was going to start starving. So it packed in what it could. Patrolling in the cold yesterday, then being thrust back into a warm environment, his DNA probably thought he’d found a den. And now he’s hibernating.”

“What the hell.”

“Fucking Christ. So he essentially has spider seasonal affective disorder.”

“Pretty much, May.”

“Well, how do we fix it, Bruce?” Tony stomps back over to his chair and flops in it. He looks at Peter, still soundly asleep. They’re right. He’s goddamn adorable. Goddamn this kid.

“Well, I don’t know if we can, really,” Bruce walks over and looks down at Tony. “I mean, really, he’ll wake up eventually.”

“Bruce,” May sighs. “He has to go back to school in a week. And despite this little, _hiccup_ , he actually isn’t a spider. I may not have five PhDs--”

“Seven.”

“--seven PhDs, but I know enough to know he’ll die of dehydration in a few days.”

“Well, if it comes to that, we can hook him up to an IV. But I don’t think we’ll have to,” Bruce shoves his hands in his pockets and looks up to the ceiling. “We may be able to coax him out of it.”

“Coax him out?” Tony gives in and reaches out to comb his fingers through Peter’s hair. He still feels cooler than he should. “You ever try to get him to do something he doesn’t want to?”

“Well, he wouldn’t know we’re doing it--no, I’m not getting into your weird parent-teenager dynamic. But, if I’m right in that it was just the perfect culmination of several things that initiated the, ugh, _hibernation_ ,” he uses finger-quotes, “then we may be able to change one of the variables.”

“Sunlight.”

“Exactly, May,” Bruce smirks at Tony, and he practically snarls back.

“We sometimes use lightboxes for people who are long-term. They sometimes help with seasonal affective disorder--although studies have shown it may just be a placebo effect.”

“Well, yes, but we’d get something a bit higher. Something that actually emits the ultraviolet rays that mimic sunlight--”

“A sunlamp, Bruce? I don’t want him in a tanning bed, and they haven’t sold those since the 80s.”

“May, I’m sure I can rig something up,” Tony groans and drops his head into his hands. “I swear to God, this kid.”

“And we shouldn’t leave him down here,” Bruce tugs on the collar of his lab coat. “Bring him to his room. The kid’s been through a lot, he shouldn’t wake up in a hospital bed if he doesn’t need to.”

“I know what the kid’s been through, Bruce, I don’t need you reminding me,” Tony scrubs his eyes as the room lapses into silence, save Peter’s deep, steady breaths. “And how long will that take to work?”

“Well, I’m not sure if it will, Tony. But,” Bruce shrugs. “We can set it up, and if nothing changes in the next few days, I’ll rig up an IV with Cho. Tony,” he walks over and sets a hand on Tony’s shoulder. “He’ll wake up, eventually.”

“Just got to keep him alive until then,” May breaks through from overhead. Tony had almost forgotten she was still on the line. 

“Exactly, May. Then, we’ll figure out how to keep it from happening again.”

“Well,” Tony hears May sniff over the speaker. “Then get started. I’ll get out of here as soon as I can, tell them Peter broke his leg or something. Give me a few days.”

“May, I--” Tony starts, but he’s cut off.

“Just fix it, Tony. I have to go. But if he wakes up before I get there, make sure you wait for me for any lectures.”

“In the kid’s defense, I don’t know if there was any way to have avoided this.”

“Bruce,” May is stern. “He needs to tell us when he’s feeling off, which you know as much as we do is a problem. ‘I get colder more easily’ or ‘I’m tired’ doesn’t cut it. He could have been out in the city somewhere.”

“Agreed, May,” Tony looks at Bruce. “Do what you need to do, May. We’ll get him up to his room. FRI will take you up when you get here.”

“You have the hospital page me if _anything_ changes, you understand?”

“Yes, May.”

“Alright,” May sighs and the line crackles a bit. “Take a breath, Tony,” her tone changes again. “You’ve gotten him out of worse.”

“That’s what Pep said.”

“She’s right. Alright, I’m going. I’ll grab some Starbucks for everyone. Is Pepper still doing decaf?”

“Oh, no, she gave up on that after two weeks.”

“A small for her then. See you in a few hours.”

 

“Bye, May.”

The line clicks dead. Bruce looks at Tony and shrugs. “Well, that could have gone worse.”

“We’ll see how she acts if _this_ ,” Tony gestures to Peter, “doesn’t fix itself. FRIDAY?”

“Yes, Boss?”

“Are there any lights in the tower you can calibrate to match the the insolation wattage of the Earth’s surface in Queens in July? UVA, -B, and -C levels should be similar as well.”

“In the bio R&D floor on level 51, there are several adjustable bulbs used in photosynthesis experiments for your genetically-modified crops.”

“Oh, yes, the Intelli-crops,” Tony looks at Bruce. “Low resource, high yield,” he explains. “Are any of them free-standing, FRI?”

“Three, Boss.”

“Well, there we go,” Bruce crosses his arms and looks down at Peter in the bed. “Maybe we should get a humidifier, too. Dry winter air...I know it messes me up.”

“FRI can adjust the air humidity in his room, Bruce.”

“Good,” Bruce sits on the corner of the bed. “It’ll work,Tony. And like I said, if it doesn’t, there are other options.”

“Part of me just wants to call Loki.”

“Nah, don’t waste a favor on this. At least Peter is getting some sleep,” Bruce reaches into the chest pocket of his lab coat and pulls out a second pair of reading glasses, even though his first are still over on the counter. “I lose them all the time,” he explains when Tony looks at him like he’s crazy. “This kid is gonna kill us all.”

“Not before me, Brucie Bear. I get to go first,” Tony pats an oblivious Peter’s shoulder then pushes his chair back. “I’ll get him up to his room. I need to suit up, he’s about three times heavier than he looks. You go down to fifty-one, snag one of those lights. Ask FRI which ones and about the measurements of Pete’s room.”

“Got it, Tony,” Bruce nods with the seriousness he would have if Tony had just told them they were going to take down an intergalactic god.

“FRI, raise the humidity levels in Peter’s room to seventy five percent. I want July in Queens in there.”

“Of course, Boss. Shall I assume you’d like me to forgo the smell?”

“Please. In fact, make sure it doesn’t smell like teenager and Axe body spray either. I have a feeling we’re going to be holing up for at least a few days in there.

“I’ll do my best, Boss.”

“And tell Pepper to cancel her MedBay sleepover. Change of venue.”

“Of course, Boss.”

“Alright, Brucie,” Tony taps the housing unit in his chest. He feels his shoulders relax minutely as the nanotech shoot across his trunk and down his limbs. The weight of this feels easier to handle when he’s in a suit. If there’s anyone who can get Tony Stark to feel less like Iron Man it’s Peter Parker. “Get down there.” He leans over Peter in the bed, gently maneuvering a gauntlet to cradle his head. “Time to take this human vegetable show on the road.”

*******

“Oh my god, I kind of just want to curl up with him and sleep,” May drops to the edge of the bed--in Peter’s room, now, instead of the MedBay--and smooths a hand down the duvet.

“Right? That’s what I said. Then Tony got weird,” Pepper sets her StarkPad down in her lap; she’s sitting on the empty side of Peter’s queen-sized bed, a chenille throw over her legs.

“You and Bruce. And I did not get weird,” Tony fiddles with the large light they’d set up next to the bed. “But you were talking about him like he’s a child.”

“Oh, please, Tony. You’re the one who still treats him like a child.”

“Hmmm, apparently until he decides to start _hibernating_ ,” Tony flips a switch on the lamp and it turns on, not bright enough to change the lighting in the room. But the specs should be enough.

May arrived at the Tower a few minutes prior, wordlessly passing around coffees. She’s more stoic than Tony would have expected, and he guessed correctly that she’d called Pepper as soon as she got off the phone with him to get an objective description of the day’s events.

“And he hasn’t moved at all?”

“Twice, actually,” Bruce supplies. “Tony said he rolled into a blanket when he set him down in the MedBay, and apparently he did the same here.”

“And now he’s the cutest burrito you’ve ever seen,” Pepper runs her fingers through Peter’s hair.

“Oh, God, if you’re like this with him, I’m worried about what you’ll be like when your kid gets here,” May looks directly at Tony and winks. He rolls his eyes; he already knows Pepper will be unbearable.

“Will that light be enough, Bruce?” May turns to look at him, where he’s hovering in the corner with his cup of coffee. “It doesn’t look any brighter in here.”

“It should be, May. We just want to mimic the effects of the sun, we don’t need to burn him. We probably shouldn’t be in here without sunglasses for too long, though. In fact, we’re going to turn it off around 9pm, mimic the sun going down. Turn it back on at 5am.”

“Literally recreating July.”

“Exactly,” Tony makes one more adjustment of the light, then steps back to survey. It’s shining fairly directly on Peter, and while it isn’t enough the change the actual lighting in the room, Tony thinks he’s already feeling a lightness in his bones. He hadn’t really thought about how long the sky had been overcast until this. It was far too long, and the first December in awhile were there was no sun. “And now we wait.”

“And take turns with him,” May stands up and starts walking around the end of the bed. “Move it, Pepper. My turn.”

Pepper laughs. “We’ll take shifts,” she stands and hands May her blanket, who immediately flops down into the vacated spot. “Do you want something to eat, May?”

“No,” she pulls off her glasses and tosses them on the nightstand. “ _I’m_ taking the nap. Don’t talk to loud.”

“See?” Pepper hisses to Tony as May curls into Peter’s back and wraps an arm around him. “Not weird.”

“She’s his aunt,” Tony rolls his eyes.

“Shhhh!” May shushes. “You guys can get a turn tomorrow.”

“Well, hopefully there won’t be a tomorrow,” Tony turns to Bruce. “Anything else, doc?”

“We wait,” Bruce shrugs and takes another gulp of coffee. “I’m going to go spend some more time with his blood. This is the first time I’ve actually gotten viable vials of it. We’ll see if there’s anything else I can find in there so he doesn’t take us by surprise again. FRIDAY,” he speaks to the ceiling, “monitor Peter’s vitals. Alert us if there’s any significant change.”

“Of course, Dr. Banner.”

“Well, I’m not about to leave,” Pepper reaches down and squeezes Tony’s hand. “I’ll order a pizza. Get another chair in here, Tony.”

“Yes, Boss,” Tony squeezes back.

*****

After Tony--or rather, one of his gauntlets--dragged a recliner into the room, he set the light on a timer to go off at 9pm and to turn back on again at 5am. They picked at pizza and sat around the sleeping spider-child, Pepper working on SI business and May and Tony trying to figure out how the kids could button-mash so quickly while playing Super Smash Bros.

May had smiled gently at Tony when he stopped every hour or so and shifted Peter on the bed, moving him to his back or straightening out his arms. Tony didn’t like him looking so _still_ for so long. 

They gave Pepper the empty side of the bed when the lights flicked off at 9pm, May the lumpy futon in the corner (it certainly was _not_ lumpy when Tony bought it, but Peter is apparently good at destroying cheap furniture and coffee tables), with Tony on the recliner right next to the bed. Bruce checked in one last time, with a promise to Tony to show him what he’d found in Peter’s blood, (“it’s fascinating, Tony. The kid is literally 2.87% spider, and I think if he can reproduce his kids will inherit some of it, which is actually kind of terrifying because then there’ll be _more_ ”), and then the three of them settled in, nobody willing to leave. 

Tony groans when the light clicks on at 5am with an audible hum. He hadn’t even really been asleep, hovering in that period around wakefulness, and his hips protest loudly when he shifts in his chair. He keeps his eyes closed for a few more minutes, dreading the moment when he opens them and sees Peter in the exact position he left him in when they flicked off the overhead lights and settled in.

Finally he opens his eyes, turning to his side in the recliner. He’s met with two large brown eyes staring blearily at him. _Jesus Christ_. 

“Don’t you look at me like that, Peter Benjamin Parker.”

The eyes blink slowly, and Peter curls a bit under his pile of blankets, lifting a hand to rub at them. “Mmmrph,” he groans. “M’sser Star’? Why’re you in m’room?”

“Because the spider in you decided it wanted to _hibernate,_ ” Tony tries to keep his voice nonchalant as pure, unadulterated _relief_ floods him. He turns on his side, pulling his blanket up over his shoulder. “What the fuck, kid?”

“Mmmm. Kitchen was warm.”

“Would’ve been nice if you’d at least made it to the couch.”

“Kitchen was warmer,” Peter pulls his duvet up under his chin and his eyes close again. “Didya fix it?”

“Clearly, if you’re awake now. Thank Bruce.”

“Hmm...Dr. Banner’s ‘mart.”

“Thanks, kid,” Tony reaches out a hand and flicks Peter’s forehead. He doesn’t so much as flinch, just pulls his blanket in tighter.

“‘M sleepy.”

“Then go back to sleep,” Tony brushes Peter’s hair out of his face. “You woke up once, that’s all I needed. And you’re probably in for a lecture from your aunt when you’re actually up, so my advice is to milk this.”

“Mmmm…’k.”

“And we’re all blaming you for our neck kinks. I know I am.”

“Didn’t have to stay in here. ‘Specially Pepper. May didn’t have to leave work,” Peter hasn’t looked around the room, but sure enough, he knows they’re all in there. Spidey-sense (oh God, now Tony is saying it too) or did he hear everything while he was out? Tony will have to quiz him later.

“Sure we did, kiddo.”

“Stay now?” Peter sighs and relaxes back into his bed. Behind him, Pepper shifts, but she doesn’t wake up. May is still out cold on the futon, snoring lightly.

“Always, Pete. Wake up when you’re ready,” Tony relaxes his arm against the mattress and Peter’s pillow, leaving his hand in his hair. He wouldn’t be able to describe his relief if he tried.

“Waffles for b’fast?”

“Whatever you want, bud,” Tony settles in himself, trying to find the right dip in the recliner for his hip. He’ll call Bruce when they all wake-up. No need to bother him now. Peter will be fine.

“‘K, thanks,” Peter sighs. “Can we turn off the light?”

“Not a chance.”

“Mmm, ‘k. G’night, Mr. Stark.”

“‘Night, Pete.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> *yawn*
> 
> Granted I'm in Buffalo, but the last time I saw the sun was 12/9 during a Bills game. It was freezing, but I got a little bit of sunburn.
> 
> I miss the sun. Someone tell me about the sun? I'm going to go eat 2 boxes of Mac and Cheese now because I miss the sun.
> 
> (I complain now, but during tornado/hurricane season, or when it's mid-July and I have yet to turn my AC on and I can go lay out by the pool for four hours because it's only a high of 87 and there's a good breeze from the North off the lake, I remember it's all worth it.)
> 
> And I know some people are adamantly against Peter-MJ, but I've always been a Peter Parker-MJ purist in all Marvel timelines, so while I can't in good conscience actually ship a TEENAGER (baby! They're babies!) I like dropping hints. I know many people like Peter-Ned, but honestly, Ned is too good and pure for a super-hero. Boy deserves a stable significant other. Ned deserves better than Peter.


End file.
